


Seahaven Island

by Kat_Rogue



Category: The Truman Show (1998)
Genre: Crossdressing, Gen, Implied/Referenced Crossdressing, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29179467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Rogue/pseuds/Kat_Rogue
Summary: Christov discovers a young Truman Burbank is living with a heart-melting secret.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Seahaven Island

Seahaven Island  
by Kat Rogue

The moon casts a dim glow inside the domed control room. Simeon’s hand hovers over the telephone. He leans into the sturdy control panel with his full weight and shakes, perhaps from his tenth cup of coffee of the day. 

“Should we wake him up?” he asks his fellow control room director. 

“Wake me up for what?” Christof responds from the metal detector behind them, less a question and more of a statement. 

Simeon’s shakes aren’t just from the coffee. 

The seriousness of his boss’ sudden appearance clashes with the striped-blue pajamas and matching nightcap Christof is wearing. Simeon points to the source of the only other sound ricocheting around the room. On the wall opposite of the moon is a television screen so large it would be more accurate to say the television screen made up the wall. 

The subject on the screen is a small child tip-toeing on soft carpet in a quiet house. Camera angles shift from a multitude of places to follow the child; bedroom alarm clock - cut - top corner in the hallway - cut - cookie jar in the kitchen - cut. 

“It’s Truman, he-”

“What is he doing?”

“He’s _sneaking_.”

A smile blooms across Christof’s face. His eyes have anchored themselves to the screen. He shuffles closer to it with a palm on his chest, in a trance. The screen and child tower over him. 

“Truman’s never snuck before.” he says in wonderment. 

“That’s why I was going to call you.” says Simeon.

“ _We_ were going to call you.” his coworker cuts in. The two exchange frowns.

Christof is somewhere else. “Where is he going?!” His diaphragm cracks into something of a pre-giggle, and then he is immediately serious. 

“Cut to end of the hallway.” Simeon follows the command. The camera cuts away. 

“Cut to the babysitter, where is she?”

The feed cuts to the image of a teenage girl snoring on a couch in the living room.

“Should we wake her up?” asks Simeon.

“No!” Christof tries to control his tone, “back to Truman.”

Truman pushes the door of his mother’s bedroom open with determined delicateness, though his face is scrunched tightly in fear. He makes quick work of the distance between the door and the closet, stopping to hear the babysitter every few steps, but ultimately pressing forward. He opens the door of his mother’s closet and has to jump to grab the pull cord and switch on the solitary lightbulb. 

“Cut to inside the closet.”

Frilly dresses and exaggerated shoulder pads populate the hangers inside. Truman rubs the many fabrics between his fingers and his face relaxes. 

“Maybe she hid something in here we don’t know about.” suggests Simeon. 

“Zoom in on his face.” orders Christof. The camera zooms in. On the screen, Truman’s nose now stands taller than Christof, who strides over to the control desk while clapping with one hand. “Microphone. I want this overlayed to the viewers, not to Truman. Where’s the music?”

Simeon scrambles to fulfill the order and hands his boss a microphone. He turns to look across the room at the empty, glass cubicle full of keyboards and synthesizers reserved for live musical arrangement during particularly emotional moments.

“It’s midnight.” Simeon replies, unsure if he’s giving the right answer. “No one’s scheduled on until seven.”

Christof takes the microphone back to the television and strokes Truman’s screen face. “Then play something pre-recorded. Uplifting, like…” Christof closes his eyes and hums to himself, “the first day of school. Remember that one?”

A moment later, the very same track from Truman’s first day of school starts playing over top the child’s present foray. Christof takes a deep breath and speaks softly into the microphone, broadcasting live to a congregation of unseen worshippers around the world.

“It takes seventeen muscles to smile...but this isn’t just a smile. This is something more. It is an expression that can only appear on someone who knows they’re alone. A purity beaten out of us when we’re young. Fascination bordering on religion. Truman has found something within that most of us go to our graves denying.” 

Christof covers the mic and hoarsely whispers to Simeon, “hold on the face.” The image stills on the closeup of the child's face. Christof talks back into the mic, “For all the nay-sayers out there, take one look at this sweet face. Tell yourself that this is not the purest essence of humanity. A love of the self.” 

Orchestral music swells, but a lion-like snore from the babysitter on the other side of the house bursts the moment. Truman bolts from the closet and back into his room. Christof lowers the mic.

“Oh, Truman”, he says quietly, “I didn’t know. Forgive me.”

Simeon leans back in his chair and crosses his feet onto the dashboard of the control panel. “Alanis is going to shit herself when she comes back from vacation. Truman touching all of her stuff like that?”

“I hope she takes it alright.” his co-worker replies.

“She’ll take it however we tell her to take it.” directs Christof. “Truman deserves love and acceptance, he”, Christof laughs under his breath, “I should say, this child, deserves love and acceptance.” 

He turns to Simeon’s coworker. “You. I want a dozen brand new baby name books in my office right now.” He turns on a heel to exit the room.

“Sure thing, boss. Coming up with a new character?”

Christof ponders the question while standing under the metal detector. He puts both hands out in front of him like he's gently holding an invisible balloon.

“We may need to rename the show.” he finally declares before exiting the control room. 


End file.
